


Unbuttoned

by egocentrifuge



Category: Mythical Entertainment, Rhett & Link
Genre: CONSENSUAL i swear, First Time, M/M, Somnophilia, also uh this is, and i'm gonna keep writing about those employees, even with how it starts, i promise yall i wouldn't do you dirty, i'm starting a freaking mythical entertainment fandom because by god guys, kind... of, that's the name of their company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 01:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: Rhett had suggested. Asked. If he could, maybe - it didn’t have to be weird - try it out on Link while he was asleep.You know - touching another guy. Likethat. Just to see.





	Unbuttoned

They’re sharing a groggy breakfast of stale cereal and milk Rhett’s still not sure hasn’t gone off when it happens. Well, technically it had happened in the middle of the night, but with as drunk as they’d been Rhett’s operating under the assumption that it was one of those things he’s misremembering, didn’t actually happen, existed in the foggy state of  _probably_ a dream.

But Link squints at Rhett over his bowl and asks, “d'you jerk me off when I was asleep?” and Rhett decides abruptly as his stomach turns that this milk is no good, after all.

He kills a minute or two pouring his cereal down the sink and the rest of the carton after it, obliterates any chance of hearing Link repeat himself by running the garbage disposal.

There’s not much to do after that except drop out of college and move states, and Rhett’s too hungover to consider that with the gravity it deserves, so he flops back into his chair and tries to meet Link’s eyes.

“The milk’s totally spoiled,” Rhett tells him, first, because even if he can foggily remember - doing exactly what Link accused him of, Rhett’s still trying to look out for him.

Link spoons another bite into his mouth defiantly. Stares back at Rhett.

“Well?” he asks, finally, sounding weirdly nervous and not at all like Rhett had thought Link would sound in the event Rhett lost his mind and did something horrible to Link while he was asleep. “What did you think?”

Rhett holds this question up to the light, twists it a few directions experimentally, but it doesn’t make a lot of sense any way he looks at it. He’s sure his face doesn’t move, so it must be the blankness that gives him away.

Link’s face screws up half in delight, half in horror.

“You don’t freaking remember - I  _knew_ you were sauced, man - ”

“Real quick,” Rhett interrupts. “Did you - give me  _permission?_  To, y'know…”

His palms are clammy when he makes the universal gesture for dick-touching and the second it takes for Link to process the question is the longest of Rhett’s life. He knows the answer as soon as Link’s cheeks turn pink. A horrible, horrible weight lifts off Rhett’s shoulders as relief and confusion course through him.

“I mean, you asked if you could - it wasn’t weird, man - I was drunk!”

Rhett’s pretty sure he could fly right now if he focused, that’s how good he feels, so it doesn’t seem like a big deal to wave Link’s still-giggled protests off, lean forward to brace himself on the table.

“I remember doing it, not why,” he admits, ears burning as he fails to say the same bit of dirtiness that Link had managed even hungover. For the first time Rhett lets himself think about it - bracing himself over Link’s bed, his narrow hips. Touching Link over his boxers and then, when he’d gotten hard, through them. Leaning down and tentatively taking Link into his mouth because there was no one, really, to see him do it and hear the eager little whimper he let out -

Link squirms across from him, one hand coming up to run through his already messed-up hair. “You uh, had a lot of reasons, it was a pretty elaborate argument, dude.” He doesn’t say  _you talked me into it,_  but Rhett’s sure that’s what happened. “And speaking of which, if - d'you think I could, sometime, try it?”

“On me?” Rhett watches Link go red and nod and tries to consider it seriously, beyond just the wave of immediate arousal. “I’m a light sleeper. I might, uh, wake up.”

“Oh.” Link scratches at the stubble on his jaw without making eye-contact. “I mean, that - isn’t such a big deal.”

Rhett freezes where he’s been remembering the feeling of guiding Link to come on his face to minimize mess that’d be left behind. He would’ve known had Link woken up, wouldn’t he?

“Uh,” he manages, finally. “Sure, whatever, then.”

Link shovels in another bite of cereal, still not looking Rhett’s way.

“Cool.”

 

\--

 

They have a standing arrangement, cobbled together from humiliating half-conversations when sober and more open, frighteningly honest heart-to-hearts when drunk. Rhett had started it months ago with a terrifyingly upfront sentence he’s admitted he has no memory of:

_I’ve thought about it, you know? Getting another guy off._

He’d gone on - saying how it had to be easier, and beyond that, just  _knowing_ whether or not it would do anything for him was important, right? Link’s fuzzy on the details himself because as drunk as he’d been, he’s pretty sure he hadn’t breathed for two minutes straight while Rhett rambled on before the damning  _me too, I guess_ , had slipped out of him. The conversation had progressed to how neither of them wanted to be with a guy to figure it out properly, just wanted to have answers, and well -

Rhett had suggested. Asked. If he could, maybe - it didn’t have to be weird - try it out on Link while he was asleep.

It’d seemed like a win/win at the time, answers and a free handjob, and despite how badly Link had wanted to die the next morning when he’d asked how it’d gone it’d seemed… good. A good solution to the debilitating obstacle of southern morals.

The thing is - it kept happening.

They’ve talked about it, but only obliquely, never anything as explicit as  _I want to touch your dick tonight,_  and since that first time they haven’t brought it up the next day. The most Link ever gets is a casual  _you gonna wear boxers tonight, brother?_  that’s started to draw a pavlovian response from him, which is sure gonna be difficult to explain to his wife someday.  _Oh, this boner? No, it’s not for laundry, it’s because my college roommate got addicted to jerking me off while I slept._

Yeah, right. Like Link has a shot of ever getting married now.

Because the thing is - he hasn’t returned the favor yet, re: their previous arrangement to  _swap_ , and it’s not because he doesn’t want to. It’s because, in the scheme of things, Link’s pretty sure he’s going to be at least ten times worse than Rhett is. Isn’t going to be able to stop at all, once he knows what it’s like. If Rhett was like, a little bit gay, Link was - gayer. Than that. By a  _lot_. So he’s been putting it off.

But Link had his last final before winter break, today, and they got drunk in celebration, and he’s going home tomorrow, and maybe - maybe it’ll be fine? If he does it now. Maybe, when they get back, he’ll have forgotten. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll find out he doesn’t like it and can get this out of his system once and for all -

It’s harder than Link thought it’d be, to stay up until Rhett’s asleep. Rhett’s had at least twice as many beers as Link has, but he’s slow to fall asleep, and Link - okay, might actually doze for a while then jerk - hah - awake in a panic.

It’s pushing three in the morning when Link struggles to sit up in his nest of blankets, blinks into the dim of their shared room.

“Rhett?” he whispers, barely a breath.

There’s no answer from Rhett’s bed.

It takes Link longer than he cares to admit to get up, edge over, because as scared as he is to do this he’s also hyper aware of how light Rhett sleeps. If Link fucks this up now, he’s resigned to never getting another chance, and that makes his movements so agonizingly slow as he makes his way over to Rhett’s bed. It’s a full where Link’s is a twin, as they’d long-since agreed that it hurt Link more to hear Rhett complain about his back than it did to sacrifice his space.

It leaves plenty of room on either side of Rhett for Link to sit down, now, which he does with the exaggerated care of a dog getting on the sofa when it knows it’s not allowed.

Rhett stirs where he’s laying on his side and flops onto his back with a little grunt.

Link’s palms start to sweat as he surveys the plane of Rhett’s stomach where his shirt’s ridden up, the band of his button fly boxers. Well, that was, uhm, convenient.

“Oh, gosh,” Link breathes, when Rhett wriggles in his sleep before kicking his blanket the rest of the way off. It puts a lot of leg on display, considering that it’s Rhett, and as wet as Link’s palms are his mouth is suddenly as dry as the desert. He knows they talked about it, but Link still can’t freaking believe that Rhett would be okay with him touching.

_He touched you,_  Link remembers. A warm flush of arousal tinged embarrassment sweeps down his chest. It takes another long minute to gather up his courage, but slowly, carefully, Link reaches out to touch.

He starts at the knees, because that’s what’s closest, and as long as Link’s known him he’s always struggled to believe that Rhett’s legs didn’t have something different about them to be that  _long_. They feel the same as his own - less hairy, maybe, but the simple fact that they’re  _Rhett's_ has Link’s palms tingling. Too soon, he reaches the hem of Rhett’s boxers; after a moment to deliberate Link skips the fabric in favor of moving to Rhett’s stomach. What hair he has there is nearly invisible in the dim of their shared room, but Link can feel it under his fingertips, soft and almost downy where his own is wiry.

Really, Link could stop now and know what he’s always suspected: The male body, no,  _Rhett_ was undeniably attractive to him. But as much as he’d agreed with Rhett’s reasoning to start this entire exchange, Link’s - a liar. He wasn’t doing this to figure anything out. He just… wanted to touch.

Link pushes down the guilt as firmly as he can. It’s not like Rhett had been telling the truth, either; how could he still be figuring anything out by touching on Link while he was asleep, past that first time? Link’s quick to sleep, but he ain’t so heavy a sleeper as to not wake up when he’s being jostled. Rhett had been doing quite a bit of jostling, lately - last week alone he’d woken Link twice with his mouth around Link’s cock. Link hadn’t let on, because that wasn’t part of this, but it’d been hard not to at least open his eyes to look -

Beneath Link’s palms, Rhett’s stomach tightens. It just about scares Link to death where he’d fallen still in introspection. He freezes, fighting the urge to spring away and laugh, but when he makes himself check Rhett’s eyes are still closed.

Something has changed, though, just south of Link’s hands. As Link watches, the front of Rhett’s boxers twitches again before filling out.

Rhett’s hard. He’s freaking  _hard_. And whether Rhett knew it or not, that was Link’s doing.

It takes all the self-control Link’s amassed over the years not to immediately tear Rhett’s boxers off, but he’s not keen on waking Rhett now. There’s something comforting in knowing that Rhett can’t see him, doesn’t know what he’s doing; it gives Link leeway to freak out a little. He’s freaking out, now, staring at Rhett boner through a single layer of fabric. All these years and the only time he’s seen him hard was when the McLaughlin’s had brought Link on vacation with them and they’d shared a room, the time Rhett had called Link out for his own no-reason boner and Link, cheeks flaming, had pointed out he weren’t alone. They’re both hard again, now. But it’s not for no reason.

Slow enough that he wouldn’t trip a motion sensor, Link edges his hands back onto Rhett’s thighs, bracketing the little man of the hour. Well, not so little, but not as big as Link, if he can take a moment to brag even with the hysteria making his entire body shake. Rhett’s straining at the single button at the front of his boxers, and while Link’s never been the best with buttons, he manages to undo this one with a deftness that shocks him.

Then, cause and effect, the tip of Rhett’s cock slips through.

“Holy _shit.”_

Link immediately bites his tongue, but the exclamation had been barely a sound. He waits there, breath caught in his chest, for Rhett to stir, but nothing happens except Rhett’s cock twitches and the light coming in from the window reflects a new wetness at its tip. Link’s own cock throbs in sympathy, which honestly surprises him; he’d almost forgotten he had a body in all the excitement. It’s hard to forget now that he’s remembered, though. With all the mindless instinct of the hot-blooded male he is, Link reaches down to grind a palm against where he’s hard. A little breath pants out of him without his say-so. Rhett’s cock lurches again.

This time, when Link checks Rhett’s face, it’s with narrowed eyes. As far as Link can tell, he’s still asleep, but once suspicion forms it’s hard to shake. He sits and waits, still grinding against his palm.

Half a minute goes by in Link’s estimation before Rhett’s hips roll up in a lazy grind against nothing.

_Impatient,_  Link thinks, then,  _he’s freaking awake,_  then,  _he’s not stopping me._

They should talk about this, probably. Definitely. But a crazy idea pops into Link’s head in the same moment: He can make Rhett break. It’s a stupid, stupid impulse brought on by years of good-natured competition, but there it is. Link’s mission in life, suddenly, is to drive Rhett so up the wall that he has no choice but to break character and - well, what he does after that Link hasn’t really thought through.

Now, with a mission, it’s suddenly easier to bring up the hand on Rhett’s thigh and wrap his fingers around the head of Rhett’s cock.

It’s - shoot, it’s a sensation. Link knows what it feels like to touch a dick, okay, he’s got one, but Rhett is thicker around than Link is and the way his hand feels around it is completely different. Link gives himself a moment to just drink it in before he pulls back to collect some of Rhett’s precome on his fingertips. It helps to let him glide down and up in a single pump before he draws back to tease at Rhett’s glans in a move he learned from a truly inspired ex who liked to tease Link until he got pushy.

Link sees Rhett’s breathing catch - it’s subtle, but it’s still there before it evens out again. He smirks and keeps at it, other hand moving to mirror the same motion on himself purely because Link can’t multitask for love or money. It makes it harder to focus on what he’s doing, but it also means he gets lost in the too much/too little sensation for a few long minutes, long enough that Rhett’s cock is leaking onto his fingers before his hips twitch again.

It’s not as hard as Link feared it’d be to figure out where to go from here, because he’s gotten a bit creative when it comes to the one-man waltz, as it were. He takes his sweet time working up the spit in his mouth before leaning forward, over Rhett’s crotch, and dribbling a bit of it down on top of his hand. Most of it gets where he’s intended, and the bit that wets Rhett’s boxers gives Link a visceral sort of satisfaction. Take  _that,_  McLaughlin.

Link gathers what he can and smears it down Rhett’s cock, taking a moment to move his boxers to bare everything to Link’s ministrations. There’s the breath catch again; Link wants to laugh, but he’s too busy opening his mouth and breathing, hot and quiet, across the newly wet skin. Where he’s holding Rhett’s cock steady he  _feels_ the next twitch, anticipates Rhett’s hips rolling up into his hand. He releases it unceremoniously and lets it slap onto Rhett’s belly.

Rhett lets out a little grumble of a noise before he shifts restlessly. Link waits, blood buzzing, but nothing else follows.

Still playing hard to get, then. Fine. Link’s got more tricks up his sleeve. Well - he’s got the same trick, but repeated, and alternating hot and cold air. The cold makes Rhett squirm like he’s trying to get away, and the hot garners thrusts Link makes sure are fruitless.

_Come on,_  Link thinks, watching Rhett’s brow furrow, his breathing start to go ragged. He’s gone back to touching himself, though as close as he is Link stops himself from coming before he gets the satisfaction of Rhett giving up the ghost.  _You know you want to snap at me, come on._

Rhett doesn’t, though, lays there placidly and lets Link do what he pleases, and after what feels like hours it’s not enough for Link anymore. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Putting Rhett’s cock in his mouth seemed too risky at the start of things, because that was a sense memory Link wasn’t sure he’d ever forget, but it’d been what had woken Link up proper half a dozen nights, now, and it might just be what Rhett’s waiting for.

He starts it off like he does the other times, a bit of spit, a teasing stroke, a hot puff of air. But this time, when Rhett chases after the sensation, Link screws his eyes shut and lets him.

At first it’s just a bump at Link’s lips, a knock on the metaphorical door. It comes again, though, because he hadn’t taken his hand away, had let Rhett get that little bit of friction. Link licks his lips to make it easier and when Rhett thrusts up into his hand and brushes his waiting mouth, Link opens. Lets Rhett get a tease of slick lips and a waiting tongue. He doesn’t attempt to lower his head or take more, because, sidebar? Link’s freaking out a bit again.

On the upside, his second or third personal crisis of the night leads to Rhett’s hips working more actively to get his cock into Link’s mouth, leads to Rhett’s hands finally twitching to life and landing, feather-light, on Link’s shoulders.

“Brother,” Rhett croaks, doing a good impression of a guy who just woke up. “Oh shit, oh fuck,  _Link.”_

It makes Link shudder all over to hear, and where he should be crowing in victory Link’s instead so stupidly close to the edge. He groans where he’s bent over Rhett’s cock, which means his mouth is open, and hell, as long as he’s here -

Rhett’s cock tastes like skin, spit, the bitter, mucusy precome Link’s been spreading across him for half an hour now. It makes Link’s jaw twinge a bit to wrap his lips around Rhett properly, but it’s worth it for the garbled string of swears Rhett lets out as soon as Link does. There’s so many things Link has thought about doing, but in the heat of the moment all he manages to do is flatten his tongue out on the underside of Rhett’s cock and suck.

Apparently, it’s enough, because Rhett’s curses resolve into a manta of, “Shit, shit,” and his hands become claws on Link’s back. In guy-speak, urgent blowjob-speak, it means  _I’m gonna come._  Still Link can’t bring himself to pull back. He’s teetering on the edge, he’s so freaking close -

It’s Rhett coming that does it. The first spurt across Link’s tongue makes him cringe, but Rhett makes such a desperate, raw sound that Link finds himself thrusting a hand down his boxers to get himself the rest of the way off.

Most of Rhett’s come ends up on his already soaked boxers when Link opens his mouth and pushes it out with the desperation of a man with a weak gag reflex and picky taste. Some of it ends up in Link’s hair, he’s sure, when he immediately drops his head onto Rhett’s hip to catch his breath.

“Oh, gross,” he pants. The next moment the giggle that’d been caught in his throat since all this started bursts free. “Oh my  _goodness,_  Rhett.”

One minute Link’s laughing into Rhett’s crotch, the next he’s being hauled up bodily to laugh against Rhett’s mouth. Wait - holy  _shit_ , Rhett was  _kissing_ him.

“Tomorrow,” Rhett mumbles when they finally break apart, too tired and pre-hungover to continue. “We gotta talk about this. I’ve been meaning to - I couldn't…”

Link has to drive back to Buies Creek tomorrow. He’s not ready to talk about it. But still -

“Yeah,” he says through a yawn that makes his aching jaw twinge. “Sure.” Link surreptitiously wipes his hand on Rhett’s sheets and throws one leg across Rhett’s thighs low enough as to not get caught in any of the mess.

“In the morning,” he decides. This close to sleep, Link’s not sure he says it out loud.


End file.
